


First Touch

by sadieb798



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Blood, Brother-Sister Relationships, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Cutting, F/F, POV Natasha Romanov, Past Torture, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Phil Coulson, Red Room (Marvel), Scheming, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor just wants his shield sisters to be happy, Torture, where the first place a soulmate touches they get their first words to each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: Contrary to what people think, the concept of soulmates is not lost on Natasha.





	1. it's like a knife cuts through my soul

**Author's Note:**

> Things I should be doing: resting so I can get better, and finish up on my SWBB obligations.
> 
> Things I should _not_ be doing: posting the two chapters of this fic I've been sitting on for _years._
> 
> Guess which one I'm doing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only difference between Natasha and the rest of the Avengers is that, where she grew up, she wasn’t allowed to have Words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first thing you should know is that because we are dealing with the Red Room, right off the bat there is gonna be some scarring shit. If you wanna know what it'll be, I'll have the TW in the end notes. Please proceed with caution and follow your own self-care rituals if it's too much. Take care of yourself; that means more to me than your opinion on my fic.

Contrary to what people think, the concept of soulmates is not lost on Natasha.

Even in the Red Room, the whispers of soulmates were passed around just as easily as a crust of bread and a piece of gossip. Natasha’s childhood was not filled with stories of love defeating evil; she was taught that love was a bedtime story for weak-minded children. Instead, her days were filled with rigorous, grueling training exercises along with stories of what happens to assets who allow themselves to let their soulmates rule them. Answer: they were terminated from the program. 

Those stories were used to scare and manipulate every little girl in the Black Widow Program, as a way to keep them from deviating in their training; like _ Babayka _ to badly behaved children. Despite this - or perhaps _ because _ of it - that didn’t stop her or her fellow assassins-in-training from learning about their Words.

On a person’s twelfth birthday, words will appear on their skin, but not just _ any _ words: _ their _ Words, the first words their soulmate will ever say to them. It’s said that that phrase will be in the same exact spot where soulmates make physical contact for the first time, and conveniently, Words always arrive on a person’s twelfth birthday. Despite this bit of incredible generosity from the universe, it comes with a price. There are generic Words - _ please excuse me _ ; _ hello there _ \- and unique Words - _ hate isn’t a strong enough word; I can’t believe Dumbledore’s dead _ \- all of them will materialize as a way to help soulmates find each other.

The only difference between Natasha and the rest of the Avengers is that, where she grew up, she wasn’t allowed to have Words.

Perfectly reasonable, the professional assassin in her thinks. Given that if an asset is killed during an operation, their body can’t have any identifying marks that can be tied back to the organization - and a person’s Words are just as recognizable as a fingerprint or a freckle or a birthmark. In fact there are lots of dating apps made to help people match up based on their Words, but it only works half-way until they actually meet in person. Make-up can only do so much, and the assets were all taught in the art of seduction; part of that involved wearing very little when seducing a target, and even less when bedding them for information.

Words are just blemishes that must be removed.

It’s one of the very few, arguably the most traumatic, things from her childhood that Natasha neglects to talk about in her mandatory therapy sessions. After all, what good does it do her now to dwell on it? She personally saw to the destruction of the Red Room years ago, and anger over her stolen Words accomplishes nothing; talking about it won’t bring them back, or make them magically reappear on her skin. Everyone knows once they’re gone, they’re gone forever.

Natasha…doesn't remember where her Words were.

Her body is _ littered _ with scars, and she can't even make an educated guess as to what their past residence was on her skin. She only remembers the searing pain as Madame’s assistants cut into her skin and peeled her Words off her flesh. It’s not an experience Natasha wishes on anyone; not even on her worst enemies.

She can still feel the leather cuffs that the surgeons used to tie every asset down slicing into her wrists and ankles. She remembers the cool, unforgiving touch of the steel metal slab against her back, the harsh glare from the bright lamp above her head still partially blinds her, and the strong smell of bleach that was used to scrub the floors burns in her throat. In Natasha’s worst nightmares, she still sees the blank expression on Madame’s face as she supervised the surgery: the thin, angry pinch in the corner of her lips, and her cool gray-eyed stare as she scrutinized Natasha.

But it all pales in comparison to the pain.

It doesn't compare to the scalpel slicing beneath her skin and peeling apart the Words of her soulmate, as though they were just a bandage meant to be cut off. The feeling was not unlike the screech of violins: the sound of the strings ripping through her spine and the shrill noise sending goosebumps up her arms and legs. She felt like a bird getting its wings clipped: unparalleled pain laced through her core as what was embedded into her since birth was stripped away without ceremony, second thought, or a moment’s hesitation.

Though the Words appeared on her twelfth birthday, she didn’t have much time to let the enormity of their materialization sink in before she and the other assets were made to stand in a line to be examined. She was the only one taken away after the superiors completed their inspection of each girl's body. The surgery to remove them was held that very afternoon. After it was over, and given it was an emotionally trying day, Natasha was granted two days to recover, a generous grace period very rarely given. In that time she lay in bed, stared up at the cracks on her ceiling, and repeated the words of her soulmate to herself. She had seen her Words only once, but she never forgot what they said.

Natasha continued to do this for the next nineteen years of her life.

She did this through every grueling exercise she was subjected to in the Red Room. She did this during her Graduation Ceremony; for every assassination she was assigned. For every mission she took for SHIELD, every mark she seduced, every drug lord she tortured. Every suspect she interrogated, every shot she made and every bullet that grazed her skin.

Every night before she goes to sleep, and every nightmare that wakes her, Natasha Romanoff repeats: 'Darcy Lewis is no damsel in distress'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha reminisces on the act of when the Red Room had their ritual of cutting out her soulmarks from her skin.


	2. i tell myself i don’t care that much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s her eyes that strike Natasha like Thor's lightning.

It’s become something of a biweekly tradition for the Avengers to get food immediately following a long, exhaustive battle.

Sometimes they do a rotation of who pays. Other times grateful store owners will pick up the tab - only if they can get a picture with Steve or Tony or Thor (they’ve had to repeatedly tell people that _ no, _ you _ don’t _want to see Bruce when he’s mad). Tonight it’s Thursday , and they’re eating at a local pizzeria after stopping a glowy bug-thing from laying eggs all over New Jersey - if Natasha’s honest, the giant bug laying its eggs all over the city would’ve been an improvement - when the subject of Jane Foster gets brought up.

"Aw, you miss your cute scientist, buddy?" Clint asks from her left, a band-aid with Merida on it stretched across the bridge of his nose.

"Aye, Clint," Thor confirms, his eyes bright with admiration as he brought his cup of soda to his lips and took a gulp. " 'Tis not been easy to nurture our love with such distance between us." He casts his eyes down and looks for all the world like a little kid who just found out the truth about Santa Claus.

“So Thor buddy, tell the truth,” Tony chirps up, one eye purple, but both lit up with humor, looking away from fixing his damaged gauntlet on the table.

“Anything, Man of Iron,” Thor smiles, waving his hand grandly with the paper soda cup.

Tony points his screwdriver in Thor's direction and asks, "Did a girl really use a taser on you?"

Thor gives a full-on belly laugh, his face brightening in joy. "Aye, what you speak is true!"

Beside her, Clint snorts with amusement and Natasha sips at her drink, quirking her eyebrow in interest while the others are vocal in their demands to hear details. Thor beams with pride at the attention. 

Natasha had heard about the mission second-hand from Clint; she had been too busy babysitting Stark at the time to go with him and Coulson to New Mexico. But hearing it from an outsider is different from someone who was actually there.

"Well come on, don't leave us hanging!" Tony exclaims, eyes sparkling.

"A taser?" Steve asks, lowering his own drink. "What's that?"

"Think of it as like Natasha's Widow's Bite," explains Bruce, leaning forward to better see the super-soldier seated next to Tony. "But only smaller, like in a box," he mimes the shape with both hands. "Women use it for self-defense.”

"Yes my shield sister, Lady Darcy, used that on me the very moment we met," Thor says, looking for all the world like a proud father.

The name catches Natasha off-guard. In all the times Clint had retold the story to her, he’d never mentioned a Darcy.

“Lady Darcy?” Natasha asks, pulling her mouth off her soda’s straw to speak. _ It’s just a coincidence, _ she thinks.

“Yes,” Thor answers, turning his sunny grin on Natasha. “Lady Darcy is my Jane’s shield maiden in the libraries.” Steve, Tony, and Bruce stare at Thor blankly.

“Her assistant,” Clint clarifies for the table, and everyone makes a noise of understanding except Natasha. Years of training keeps her from leaning forward in her seat in interest, and her expression blank. Instead, she keeps her careless slouch, and her fingers idly grip her soda’s straw.

"Yeah, she's a firecracker," Clint continues with a chuckle, not noticing Natasha’s gone still beside him. "We had to confiscate all her boss's equipment and research - "

"Ah, the big, scary intelligence agency," mutters Bruce into his drink, and Tony hums in agreement.

" - and one of the other agents took her iPod," Clint continues with a nod of acknowledgment in the scientist's direction. "Kid has good taste in music."

"Lady Darcy has been good enough to have been teaching me the ways of Midgardian technology," Thor resumes, his attention focused on his belt pockets. He rummages for a moment before pulling out a slim phone. "Last we saw each other, she introduced me to this cell phone. We took selfies."

Thor holds the phone out with the photo to his companions. Tony is the first to take the phone, before passing it around to the others.

"Cute kid," Tony says, nodding.

"Aye, Lady Darcy is quite a maiden," Thor practically beams with pride. "Intelligent, a skilled fighter, and a beauty. She would have no shortage of admirers on Asgard."

Bruce squints at the picture. “She looks a little familiar…” he says thoughtfully.

Clint chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure you say that about _ all _ the girls, Bruce.”

This really rouses Natasha’s curiosity, but she makes no move to grab the phone before her turn. When it finally reaches Natasha's fingers, the sight makes her breath freeze in her throat. She has to admit Tony's right. The photo shows Thor and this Darcy squashed together, the twenty-something-year-old girl practically a dwarf compared to the god's bulk and grandeur. But she holds her own: long dark waves of hair draped over both her shoulders, full plump lips quirked up in amusement, and intelligent blue eyes sparkle behind a pair of glasses.

It’s her eyes that strike Natasha like Thor's lightning. They are unlike any color blue she’s ever seen before: they’re clear, almost a blue-gray, but with flakes of dark cobalt.

_ It can’t be, _ Natasha thinks, trying to remember what it was like to breathe. _ There’s no _ way _ that this could possibly __be - _

“Darcy Lewis,” Tony announces, cutting through Natasha’s thoughts. Her head whips up to look at him. Busted gauntlet lying forgotten on the table, Tony scrolls through his own phone with a thumb as he leans back in his seat. “She’s a poli-sci student, intern to Dr. Jane Foster, and currently finishing up at Culver University.”

“_ That’s _ why she looks familiar!” Bruce exclaims, snapping his fingers and giving a great big smile that’s a rare sight on his face. “She was a student of mine! I think she was the only one who ever gave me a Starbucks gift card at the end of the term.”

“And you?” Thor asks Natasha, leaning forwards as the rest of the group continues to talk. “What do you think of Lady Darcy?”

Natasha gives him a careless shrug, despite the fact that her heart is beating so hard she’s sure he can hear it race in her chest. “Like Tony says,” she allows. “She's cute.”

Thor quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at her. “Just ‘cute’?” he asks.

“Pretty,” Natasha allows.

Thor chuckles fondly, as though entertained by Natasha’s antics. "If you would like,” he begins, “I would be honored to introduce the two of you," Thor offers knowingly as she hands him his phone back. Natasha’s eyes widen minutely, but he - thankfully - doesn't see her.

“I am sure my Shield Sister would be more than happy to allow a fine warrior such as yourself escort her,” Thor says, momentarily turning away to put his phone back in his belt. He faces her again, his dark blue eyes studying her intently. “Unlike most, I know that you would treat her with respect.”

The offer gives Natasha pause. How many ‘Darcy Lewis’s could there be in the world? Knowing the lives she and the rest of her team lead, it would be just like the universe to make Thor’s Darcy Natasha’s Darcy. It’s a tempting offer, especially given that Natasha is flattered that Thor trusts her enough to allow her to get close to someone he considers a sister. But she just isn’t ready.

"Love is for children," Natasha retorts simply.

"Ah, but I said nothing of love," Thor points out, the corner of his lips tipped up in amusement. "Regardless of age, companionship is for all."

"Thanks, but not interested."

Thor pulls a displeased frown but nods his head in understanding. “Perhaps another time then.”

Natasha doubts it.

“I doubt it,” she says, and the conversation turns to something SHIELD-related.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much after this point, I'm not gonna follow MCU canon.


End file.
